


Supernatural comment_fic drabbles

by tigriswolf



Series: comment_fic drabbles [281]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Codependent Winchesters (Supernatural), Dark, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, Gen, M/M, POV First Person, POV Outsider, POV Second Person, POV Third Person, Pre-Canon, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 17:56:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 54
Words: 15,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5014399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriswolf/pseuds/tigriswolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unconnected drabbles.  Here be violence, AU, (w)incest, and death.  But also some fun gen pieces, too.  So. *shrugs*</p><p>Be aware, I haven't seen anything since the start of season 7.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. haven’t we been here before?

**Author's Note:**

> Every chapter will have its own warnings. Also, I've apparently written a _shit-ton_ of Supernatural drabbles, which makes sense, because it was my main fandom for five years. These are the ones I think were actually good, so I've decided to post them here. *shrugs again* 
> 
> Title: haven’t we been here before?  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: AU  
> Pairings: pre-Michael/Sam  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 700  
> Point of view: third  
> Supernatural, Dean (or Dean/Sam if author prefers), Dean is a rogue angel

Sam Winchester is an orphaned only child. His mother died in a house fire, his father in a drunk-driving accident, and he was raised by good, God-fearing folk in Wichita, Kansas. He’s known for as long as he can remember that he wasn’t their son. He knows they only took him in for the points such a selfless act might get them when they die. But still, they treated him well: made sure he was clothed, fed, and sheltered. They didn’t love him, though. He always knew they didn’t love him. 

When Sam is twenty-three, after he’s been at Stanford for four years with plans for law school and a fiancée named Jessica, he wakes up in a ghost town among half a dozen others. They each have abilities, stuff from fantasy novels and sci-fi movies. Sam hadn’t thought his dreams meant anything, but he’s seen all these people before. 

And one by one, they die. Sam relies on instincts he didn’t know he had to stay ahead of the killer, and then Ava is smirking at him, Ava who he saw, months ago, kill a man who tried to kill her. And then Jake, superstrong Jake who lifted a car off his buddy, snaps Ava’s neck, and he looks at Sam with apologetic eyes. 

(In Hell, Alistair’s greatest pupil breaks the First Seal by saying yes and taking the razor and slicing _down_. She doesn’t remember her parents or her husband or her miscarriage five years before her son was born.)

Jake lunges for Sam, who knows he can’t win. Jake’s a superstrong trained soldier. Sam goes to the gym twice a week and knows a little self-defense he doesn’t usually need since he’s a head over six feet tall. But Sam has a silver-tongue, so as he dodges back and to the left, he starts talking. He just lets the words flow, bullshit and entreaties and plans for how they can work together, him and Jake, figure out what that yellow-eyed bastard wants and then go their own way. Hell, they could rule the world. 

But Jake doesn’t listen and keeps going for Sam, a dull, rusty knife in hand, and Sam knows he’s dead.

And the moment Jake touches him, _something_ throws Jake off. He hits the ground hard enough to go half a foot in, and his body is _broken_. Sam can tell from where he still stands, gasping for air. 

That something is suddenly there, standing next to Sam. He’s a little over six feet tall, with dark blond hair and hazel eyes, and he’s got to be the prettiest man Sam’s ever seen. He turns to face Sam, head tilted and gaze sharp, and he says, “So you’re Sam Winchester. Huh.” 

More people are with them, appearing out of nowhere—a small woman with red hair, a short guy with long brown hair, and a guy dressed like John Constantine. 

“What the fuck?” Sam asks. The first guy laughs and Sam is hit with déjà vu so strong he shakes with it. He’s dreamed about this guy, whoever he is. Dreamed about them all.

“My name is Michael,” the guy says. “These are Anachel, Gabriel, and Castiel.” 

And no, that’s not right, Sam’s sure of it. But as the guy, Michael, keeps talking, the certainty slips away.

(The Final Seal is never broken. Lucifer stays in his cage, Michael destroys Zachariah, and Chuck Shurley never finds a publisher.

Sam Winchester is an orphaned only child, his mother is never Raised from Hell, and his father spends eternity reliving his wedding night in Heaven. 

And Sam dreams about another life, sometimes, where he had an older brother named Dean who never said yes to the archangel Michael. But when he wakes to Michael smiling at him, he ignores those dreams and doesn’t wonder about the vessel housing Michael in this life. 

Anachel tells him, once, that if an angel is powerful enough they can create a vessel. And Castiel mentions, offhand, that Michael had watched Sam for a long time before approaching him in Cold Oak. Gabriel likes to mock Michael for his voyeuristic tendencies, and taken all-together, Sam’s subconscious knows what he never truly realizes.)


	2. the final prayer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: the final prayer  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: spoilers for season 6  
> Pairings: none stated  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 160  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Sam + Lucifer, "But who prays for Satan? Who in eighteen centuries, has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner that needed it most?" - Mark Twain

He prays that one day Lucifer will reach the point he asks forgiveness. Sometimes, he prays that God will have pity, or reach out his hands to pull Lucifer close, the most prodigal of all sons home at last. In that scenario, Sam almost always thinks of himself as the fatted calf. He's not sure what that says about him. 

Sometimes, Sam prays that God does not forgive His most arrogant, hateful child. That's usually because he's been thinking of Dean, and Jessica, and Dad, and Mom, and everyone else he's ever known, everyone Azazel and Lilith killed. The whole world. 

And sometimes, when he's feeling particularly spiteful, there in the Pit with Lucifer and a pissed off angel and the shell of a little brother he barely knew, sometimes, Sam prays that Lucifer reaches the point where he asks himself for forgiveness. Sam knows from experience how much that hurts, and that prayer is not for mercy.


	3. crown of thorns and cross of razor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: crown of thorns and cross of razor  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: AU; dark  
> Pairings: implied Dean/Castiel  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 290  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Dean/Castiel, Castiel was supposed to save the Righteous Man. Instead he ends up joining his side.

A year has passed since Lilith's hounds tore Dean Winchester apart, twelve short human months. But in Hell, on Alistair's rack and beneath Alistair's razor, Dean spent ten thousand years before finally saying _yes_ , and two thousand years at Alistair's side, learning the art of torture. 

(He actually only refined a skill he already possessed, but Zachariah overlooked that.)

Castiel pulls Dean close, grips him tight, and rises from Perdition. And when Dean summons him, Castiel looks upon the man he saved and sees only Alistair's touch, the lingering traces of Hell that perhaps Father could erase, but no one else can even begin to fade. 

(He is meant to be the Righteous Man's guide, lead him to Michael, show him the path and have him say _yes_.)

Dean is unlike any man Castiel has ever watched or guided before. Alistair's mark on him never leaves; instead it deepens, burning into Dean's soul even more. Castiel never knew him before Hell, but Sam—Lucifer's Vessel—speaks to Castiel of his fears, that something vital to Dean was either destroyed or left in Hell. 

And Castiel, a low-ranked angel, sent only because he was so weak the demons wouldn't even notice him, realizes when he kills Uriel for threatening Dean, that he may have left something in the Pit, too. 

(Two brothers more demon than man and a fallen angel stand against the combined forces of Heaven and Hell. 

It's nowhere near a fair fight, and God has left the solar system. Both those kingdoms need a new ruler.

Two years after Lilith's hounds tear Dean Winchester apart, Sam kills Lucifer to take his throne, Castiel destroys Zachariah for command of Heaven, and Dean stands between them, smirking, Alistair's razor in hand.)


	4. deathbed deep in sores

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: deathbed deep in sores  
> Disclaimer: no my characters; title from Anne Sexton  
> Warnings: takes place in Hell  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 120  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: Dean/Alastair, Carved your heart out myself

Souls can't die, not in Hell, and Alistair's already drained him dry. Thirty years(more like a million) and Dean has nothing left, no anger and no hope, not even despair, he's empty. 

He has to say yes.

He doesn't. 

He raises his head, chest gaping open and veins sliced clean through, and he looks Alistair in the eye, smartass smirk curving his lips, and he says, voice silky and strong, _Give me that razor, dude, let me show you how it's done_.

And Alistair wakes from his first dream since he sold his soul to Satan, and he goes to the workroom where Dean Winchester is spread wide, waiting for him. 

And Dean raises his head, smirking, to meet Alistair's eyes.


	5. new ways to scream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: new ways to scream  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: Alistair’s pov; spoilers for season 5  
> Pairings: implied Alistair/Dean  
> Rating: PG13  
> Wordcount: 315  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Dean/Alistair, hurt is comfort

When demons die, they don't go to Hell. Hell is for humans and fallen angels, and Alistair had studied, once upon a time. Back at his beginning, just after the Garden, when his mother and father had dozens of children. He was one of a multitude, then. Still is, in fact.

Cain and Abel are the brothers that history remembers. And even Alistair has forgotten his human name.

The point is, demons don't go to Hell when they die. 

Alistair looks around the room, lit by fire, and examines the others with him. All of these demons were killed by Winchesters. Azazel is plotting in the corner with Ruby and Lilith, trying to find a way out. Their plan succeeded, after all. Lucifer is walking the world again. 

Too bad none of them are there to bask in his glow. Alistair smirks, thinking of his boy. His greatest pupil, his best and brightest, his masterpiece.

Demons don't go to Hell when they die. And neither will Dean. But he won't rest forever in Heaven, either. There are laws, set in place long ago, back when Yahweh fashioned this reality, this planet. 

Death will reap Dean one day. And Death will deposit Dean in Alistair's hands, and Alistair will hurt the boy until he remembers nothing beyond Alistair’s touch. 

Dean gripped Alistair’s razor tight and taught souls new ways to scream. He won’t go to Heaven when he dies for good. He’ll come here, to this cavern somewhen else, created by Yahweh for those that even Hell couldn’t contain. 

Alistair wonders when Lucifer will show up, but he has patience. Death owes him; owning Dean again will settle that debt. 

And then he’ll have Dean forever, his perfect pet, his pretty little triumph. Let the others plan and plot. Alistair has his own game, and the only other player he needs or wants will be here soon enough.


	6. most important meal of the day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: most important meal of the day  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: pre-series; spoilers for season 5  
> Pairings: mentions of John/Mary  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 290  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Dean, Mary, breakfast with Mommy  
> Notes: this started out as fluff; it ended up kinda angsty

First, they break the eggs into a bowl. Mama lets Dean do that part, and she laughs when it explodes, covering him in a gooey mess. Mama stirs up the parts that actually made it into the bowl, and then Dean smushes a chunk of butter in the pan. 

Mama lets Dean turn the dial so that the stove heats up, but she won’t let him mess with anything else until after the eggs are cooked. 

Dean gets to push the bread into the toaster and turn it on, and pick out the jelly, too. He chooses strawberry, ‘cause that’s Mama’s favorite. 

He settles down to watch the toaster while Mama portions out the eggs onto plates. When the toast pops up, Dean tries to grab it, but Mama catches him and grabs it herself. 

She butters the toast, but lets Dean slather the jelly onto the bread. She asks him to carry the bowl of sliced strawberries to the table and sets his plate of toast and eggs at his place. He waits until she’s settled their cups of milk (chocolate, for him) and her own plate of breakfast, and then she tells him to pick out the strawberries he wants. 

Daddy’s asleep because he had the late shift again, so Mama sets aside some for him. 

“And now, baby boy,” Mama says, “let’s eat.” 

He doesn’t wait for the prayer, because Mama doesn’t pray. Daddy does, sometimes, but Mama hardly ever does, even though there’s an angel in Dean’s room. 

The angel says his name is Michael, and that he and Dean will be best friends one day. 

Mama smiles at him from across the table; Dean knows his mama is the most beautiful woman in the world.


	7. the reign of a thousand years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: the reign of a thousand years  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: parts could be taken as Judeo-Christian blasphemy  
> Pairings: implied Alistair/Dean  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 235  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Dean +/ Alastair, I sat around laughing and watched the last one die

Dean doesn't really remember much about the soul he was tormenting when Castiel swooped in to save the day a thousand years too late.

(And it was a thousand years. Alistair savored every last moment, and he is Hell's timekeeper. Let Joshua talk about the symbolism of three days all he wants... Alistair knows he had that self-righteous martyr on his rack for five million decades, and he knows because he counted them all.

So, when Alistair says he had Dean for four thousand years, he did. And when Dean tearfully confesses to Sammy that it was four months, he doesn't know he's lying.)

Anyway. Dean doesn't remember much about the last soul. There was screaming and crying and begging and bleeding, but that's simply par for the course. Towards the end there, Dean inspired just as much terror as Alistair, and they were both so proud of that.

But that last soul... if only Castiel had been a few hours later, Dean would've been completely lost. Completely Alistair's. Body and mind and soul, every bit of him. Alistair's to break down and build back up, crazy-glued together _wrong_. 

Michael wouldn't have wanted to touch him, then. Both Heaven and Hell would've backed the fuck off and left Dean with Alistair, in his workroom, forever. 

But Dean was pulled away, gripped tight and raised from Perdition, and Dean doesn't know that last soul's name.


	8. check yes or no

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: check yes or no   
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: spoilers for everything aired  
> Pairings: none stated  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 250  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: Sam Winchester, five times he said no and one time he said yes

When Sammy was four, Daddy wanted him to sit quietly while Daddy flipped through some old book. Sammy wanted Daddy to play. Dean was busy trying to wash clothes, and he didn't want to play either. 

Sammy couldn't sit still long, so he marched up to Daddy and _demanded_ that Daddy play with him _right now_.

Daddy told Sammy to go sit back down. Sammy shouted, "NO!" 

o0o

When Sam was nine, not long after he learned the truth, he asked to go on a hunt. Dad asked if he'd ever looked evil in the eye, if he was ready for that.

Sam said, "No."

o0o

When Sam was thirteen, Dad told him to get his ass outside with his brother and train. 

Sam had a history test the next day, so he said, "No, _sir_." 

o0o

When Sam was eighteen, Dad ordered him not to leave. Said they needed to stay together, that Dad and Dean needed him.

Sam looked over at Dean, and Dean dropped his gaze. 

So Sam said _no _and Dad said _if you leave, don't come back_ and Sam walked out the door.__

__o0o_ _

__When Sam was twenty-four, he watched Dean get ripped apart by hellhounds._ _

__The only thing he could think or scream or whisper was _no_ but it didn't matter._ _

__o0o_ _

__When Sam was twenty-seven, Lucifer offered him a deal._ _

__Dean said, “Sammy, don’t.”_ _

__Sam looked away and asked, “If I don’t?”_ _

__Lucifer smiled. “You know what’ll happen then.”_ _

__Sam closed his eyes and muttered, “Yes.”_ _


	9. the Judas lullaby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: the Judas lullaby  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: slight AU  
> Pairings: Sam/Ruby  
> Rating: R  
> Point of view: third  
> Wordcount: 230  
> Prompt: Ruby, "I can’t promise to obey you. I can’t swear I won’t betray you, Or that when the morning comes I won’t take flight."

She turns, keeping her eyes on Dean even as she listens to Sam. Hell has changed him, her one true competitor—he's darker, leaner, far more dangerous than before Alistair sank in with fang and claw.

He doesn’t trust her, which is fine since she only trusts him with Sam’s safety. Even that, though, he refuses to give her. 

He’ll kill her the first chance he gets, with or without Sam’s blessing. And while Sam has needed her, these past few months, those days are gone with Dean’s return. 

Damn him. He couldn’t have stayed below just a few days(monthsyears _eons_ ) longer? Everything would have been finalized then. Sam would be hers, body and soul, bound to do her bidding, sworn to her plan. He would unleash the Star of Morning, clothe her king in his flawless form, and finally all would be well. 

But instead Dean is back, Dean watchful and wary, Dean dangerous in ways she hasn’t seen since last she lay beneath Alistair. 

She will have to be wary in turn, keep an eye on him at all times, be ready to flee at half a moment’s notice. Nothing can get in the way of releasing the LightBringer. 

She wishes killing him were allowed, but Sam would never forgive her. Even still, sometimes she pictures how Dean would look, gutted and torn open, eyes staring at the sky.


	10. his mother's eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: his mother’s eyes  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: thoughts of incest, underage  
> Pairings: John/Dean  
> Rating: PG13  
> Wordcount: 200  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: John/Dean, the day they almost told each other how they felt

Sometimes, John really can't help how he looks at Dean. It's just... he's so damned beautiful. He looks so much like Mary.

And Mary would castrate John for thinking these things, he _knows_ she would, and that's usually enough to make him stop. To go cool off with a shower or a ten-mile run or a visit to the nearest bar for a willing body.

But it's getting more difficult because Dean is starting to catch on. And he's so eager to please... John knows that if he ever said the word, Dean would obey. And that kind of power, it's really fucking with John's mind. 

And there Dean is, just watching him back. Waiting. John's pretty sure he'd offer, if John ever did anything more than hint with a look, and Mary would _destroy_ him for the way his gaze slides down Dean's body.

John would destroy anyone he saw giving his boy that look. And Dean _is_ boy, his son, his soldier.

Dean's mouth opens, and that's when Sam slams through the door, already ranting about something that happened at school.

John breathes, closes his eyes, and swears to Mary nothing will ever come of this.


	11. waiting in the wings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: waiting in the wings  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: spoilers for season 5  
> Pairings: none stated  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 205  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: Team Free Will, "Don't give up. You have more friends than enemies."

"Hello, Jesse," she says, long blonde hair blowing in the salty breeze. "I think we have a couple friends in common."

She looks nice. Sounds nice. But appearances are deceiving, and no one knows who he is, anymore. 

"My name's Layla," she continues. "And I just wanted to let you know about another friend, someone who helps us all, gets us ready for what's coming." She holds out a small piece of paper. "If you ever wanna help us help the Winchesters, go here."

If she’s dangerous, he can stop her, so he takes the note. _Missouri Mosley_ and an address are printed in big block letters, no-nonsense handwriting, and he can feel, through the paper, her good intentions. 

“How did you die?” Jesse asks, looking up at her. 

“Brain tumor,” she replies. 

He nods. “I might come,” he tells her. “If… maybe…”

She smiles and reaches out; he lets her touch his cheek. “You have nothing to make up for, Jesse.” Her voice is soft and kind, and he knows he’s not good enough, but it sure is nice to hear. He closes his eyes as she leans down to kiss his forehead, and when he opens them, she’s gone. 

He tucks the note away.


	12. ever the foreshadowing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: ever the foreshadowing  
> Fandom: Supernatural  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: AUish during season 5   
> Pairings: none stated  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 180  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: Dean/Sam, Sam always has to be rebelling against someone

Watching him walk away, it's no surprise. A lifetime in the making, foreshadowing for years. 

Someone has to be the villain for Sammy. Back in the more innocent days, it was Dad and his orders, his regime of one general and two soldiers. Then it was Azazel and Lilith, and Ruby the backstabbing liar.

And now it's the first villain of all, Lucifer the LightBringer, Prince of Lies. The first being to ever rebel. 

_They have so much in common, our brothers,_ Michael tells him. _How long until Sam says yes?_

"Never," Dean responds aloud, glaring at Michael in the dream. "Get out of my head."

Michael smiles. "Sammy needs to rebel against someone, Dean. And you're the only left. And the only way for him to rebel..."

He leaves the thought hanging and Dean wills himself awake. 

No. Michael's wrong. Sam's not that stubborn kid anymore, or the vengeful lover, or the panicked, desperate brother. He's a warrior, a man who knows his path. 

Sam will never say yes to Lucifer.

But Dean knows he will say yes to Michael.


	13. trickster's tales

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: trickster’s tales  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: AU  
> Pairings: none stated  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 175  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Sam & Dean & Castiel, Running into a real trickster for once.

They're pretty boys, and powerful, threaded together with sacrifice and lead and blood and fire. Feathers, too, etched into their skin, and sigils etched into bone. Two of them are his, American to the core, dust from the middle of his continent. The other smells like sky and starlight. Fading, though. More dust by the day.

Not really a boy, that one. Older than him, though not by much. Only a few millennia. 

Coyote licks his chops. Not too smart, to mess with these three. The eldest boy is marked by the Eldest, and the younger has _his_ fingerprints deep in his soul. That upstart who, though older, really wasn’t as funny as he thought. Too much judgment, not enough jokes. Takes more to trick than power. Angels really don’t have the sense of humor they think they do.

No matter. Here they are, tired and worn out. They need a breather, and who better than the King of Tricksters?

(No matter what Loki and Anansi say, he _is_ the king. Ask anyone. But them.)


	14. the only choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: the only choice  
> Fandom: Supernatural  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: spoilers for aired season 5  
> Pairings: gennish  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 160  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Dean/Cass, Why would you want to fall?

Dean, Castiel knows, truly does not understand. The man thought he deserved Hell, and will never believe that anyone would want to save him.

Dean honestly believed that he should stay with Alistair in Perdition, that he had earned nothing more than an eternity of torment and suffering and damnation.

Castiel did his duty in carrying Dean back to Earth, in pouring his ravaged soul into his equally ravaged flesh, in healing him with Heavenly grace. Castiel did his duty in guiding Dean, in aiding him, in protecting him from Alistair.

Castiel did not do his duty when he showed Dean a way around Chuck’s prophecy, or in sending Dean to Lilith’s corpse and Sam. Castiel did not do his duty when he fought Raphael, too late in giving Dean a chance to stop Sam from breaking the final Seal.

Dean asks, when Castiel sides with him against Heaven and Hell and hunters, why he would.

Castiel shares a glance with Sam and simply smiles. Dean will never understand why anyone would choose him, not really, but at least Castiel is not alone in the choice.


	15. what we know, but have no art to say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: what we know, but have no art to say  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Dickinson  
> Warnings: AU  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount:145  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Sam & (or /) Dean, Sam follows the plea of his father to shoot him as he is possessed by YED in

Sam doesn't know if Dean's alive. Colt in one hand, pointed at Dad, he tries to find Dean's pulse. 

"Sammy, shoot me in the heart," Dad gasps, straining to keep the demon at bay. "Kill me, son." 

Blinking tears away, Sam stands and takes aim. He doesn't want to, can barely do it, but—

" _Now_ , Sam!" 

He pulls the trigger. 

(He rushes Dean to the nearest hospital. While Dean's in emergency surgery, Sam returns to the cabin for the clean-up. 

It's a month before Dean's well enough to walk out under his own power. 

And Sam feels guilty for feeling relief that Dean doesn't remember the last week leading up to that night. He still thinks Dad is out there, hunting the demon. Sam isn't sure how to tell him that both are gone for good.

So, for the longest time, he doesn't.)


	16. when the rich wage war

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: when the rich wage war  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: future!fic; dark  
> Pairings: none stated  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 320  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: Castiel/Raphael, on your knees

He tore Castiel apart. He remembers that. A mere scholar of an angel, weak and dissident, lacking God’s Grace and strength and the fury of the righteous smiting a blasphemer. 

He tore Castiel apart with ease, with the might of Heaven behind him, with surety and knowledge—God’s will and God’s wrath, God’s hands on Earth. An archangel. The best of all His creations. 

Castiel trapped him and demanded answers, having been returned to life by the Adversary. No one else had the raw power to do such a thing, save Michael and God, and neither would have done it—so Satan had revealed his favorites: the traitor and the vessels. 

Castiel trapped him once, a result of Raphael’s arrogance and shock. Castiel trapped him once and showed just how far he’d fallen.

And now… 

“Kneel,” the Adversary demands of all the hosts, of all the garrisons, of Heaven itself. 

Raphael clenches his fists as Zachariah postures. No one is surprised when the Adversary strikes him down with a simple gesture.

“Kneel,” the Adversary commands. “Kneel or perish.” 

Dean did not say yes. Dean did not say yes and Father is still gone and Michael is a bodiless spirit, easily destroyed by Lucifer’s smile. 

Castiel strides forward, filled with profane power, and he pauses before Raphael. “Kneel,” he says quietly. “On your knees, if you desire life.”

He tore Castiel apart, once. He tore Castiel apart, and yet here Castiel stands, with Lucifer and Michael’s defiant vessel, and there is nothing to be done. 

Raphael takes a deep breath, arches his wings, and lunges forward.

He tore Castiel apart, once. But that was before, and Castiel is now more than his equal. 

The Adversary laughs, the brother—who should have said yes, should have said yes, how _dare_ he refuse—smirks, and Castiel stands victorious. 

“Kneel!” the Adversary roars. 

All who remain, terrified and angry and desperate, do.


	17. meatsuits and vessels, and the ground in-between

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: meatsuits and vessels, and the ground in-between   
> Disclaimer: not my charcters  
> Warnings: spoilers for everything aired  
> Pairings: none stated  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 410  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: Supernatural,Lucifer/Castiel/Michael,wearing vessels

None of them actually need meatsuits, of course. Bodies of flesh and bone and blood are useful for interaction with Father's lesser creations, but the final war will happen with or without them.

Demons enjoy wearing flesh. It's warm and cozy, and hearing the soul scream while the body does something horrific is _such_ fun. Angels feel constrained, tethered and chained, but because it is necessary, they ask permission and take care to not damage the vessel too much, and then heal their host as they leave.

Michael’s first human vessel is named John Winchester. As he speaks to John’s son, he can feel John crumbling around him, weak and human and not enough to house the glory of God’s Weapon. But he is careful and ensures that John will be even better after the possession. And he knows that Dean will be able to take him all. 

Lucifer’s first human vessel dies the moment Lucifer takes him, and the body doesn’t last much longer. Lucifer wears him without care; Nick is nothing except the means to an end, and only Samuel will actually be enough.

Castiel talks to Jimmy, asks questions and answers queries. Whenever Dean says something that doesn’t make sense, Castiel goes to Jimmy for clarification. After the re-indoctrination, though, Jimmy refuses to communicate at all, so Castiel gently tucks Jimmy away and lets him sleep, dreaming of Amelia and Claire. And after Raphael tears Castiel apart, Jimmy is no longer there. Castiel is alone and so little makes sense, but Father has returned. Of that, he is sure. 

As Michael and Lucifer spiral toward their true vessels, Castiel feels himself growing more human, his wings tattering while the body that was once Jimmy’s hungers. 

Dean and Sam will never say yes, he knows. So why his brothers don’t just battle it out in their true bodies, he has no idea. 

Of course, he thinks, watching Dean and Sam eat dinner, wondering if a triple bacon burger can possibly taste as good as he remembers it tasting, even Michael has his pride. Maybe the fact that Dean refuses to submit is the only reason why Michael still pursues him. And Lucifer merely wants Sam to fall. 

“Here,” Dean grouses, handing over half his burger. “Quit givin’ me Sam’s puppy-eyes.” 

Lucifer and Michael will fail. 

Castiel bites into the burger and finds that, yes, it tastes just as good as it did beneath Famine’s influence. Maybe even better.


	18. star light, star bright (star I create this night)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: star light, star bright (star I create this night)  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: spoilers for everything aired  
> Pairings: Ruby/Sam  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 210  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: Sam/Ruby, corruption

She hasn't been poisoning him. He'll think that, of course: Dean's conditioning. Dean the guard-dog, Alistair's toy, the Betrayer's Vessel. Michael’s Sword. 

He'll always be first for Sam, and she understands that. She had a sister, once, beautiful and funny and kind. Men courted her with poetry and flowers, wanted to be her husband purely because of her physical beauty. And when one of the suitors got too fresh and tainted her sister’s honor, she exacted vengeance with words and blood and pain. 

She understands Sam’s feelings and intentions. His brother is everything to him. And that’s why he falls into her web so perfectly. 

She isn’t poisoning him with her blood; she’s gifting him. He doesn’t need her, not like Azazel, back at the beginning. (Though, sometimes, seeing the potential in his soul, she wonders if even Azazel actually changed anything in him. He’s meant for Lucifer, after all. Not even Azazel could fully craft that.)

“Drink,” she whispers, wrist to his mouth. “Drink, sweet boy. Take what you need.” 

His hand can shadow this body’s head. He towers above her. Even when he’s not trying, he can be so very intimidating. 

He is the perfect vessel for the Star of Morning, and he will be beautiful with Lucifer’s wings.


	19. of him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: of him   
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: spoilers for season 5  
> Pairings: none stated  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 95  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: Sam and Castiel, “You’re going to stay, right?”

After... after the war, after Lucifer and Michael have destroyed each other, after Hell and Heaven are both in ruins and Earth almost barren, after God has stepped back into reality and begun anew, Sam turns to Castiel and asks, "You're going to stay, right?" When Castiel remains silent, Sam continues, "You and a necklace, that's all I have of him. Even his Impala is gone. Please stay."

Castiel looks him in the eye, gaze ancient and weary, and replies, "Of course I will."

Sam is all Castiel has of him besides a necklace, too.


	20. snakebite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: snakebite  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: takes place in the 5.4 future  
> Pairings: none stated  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 155  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: FutureLucifer!Sam/Future!Dean, "He's in here, you know, screaming for you."

When Dean rushes into the garden, that special gun in hand, he doesn't turn. "Hey, big brother," he says, caressing a rose. "I've missed you."

"Shut up, demon," Dean hisses, but he smells the fear and despair and hate. 

And the regret. So much regret. Dean is drowning in it.

"He's in here, you know," Lucifer murmurs, glancing over his shoulder. "Sammy is screaming for you." He smiles gently and cants his head, slowly pivoting in place. "He's begging you to get out of here. To leave and not look back. He still loves you, Dean." 

Lucifer plucks a rose as he strides forward. "He did it for you," Lucifer tells him. "Sam said yes to save your life." 

Dean blinks, swallows, the gun dropping from his fingers. "What?"

"You shouldn't have come here, Dean," Lucifer says. "Sam will never forgive me for what happens next." 

There is resignation in Dean's eyes. Sam never stops screaming.


	21. the lament of Jocasta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: the lament of Jocasta   
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: spoilers for everything aired  
> Pairings: John/Mary  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 190  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: author's choice, "Never forgive me, never forget me."  
> Notes: title refers to Greek mythology

She would ask his forgiveness, if she could. She'd wrap her arms around his neck and breathe in his scent, would clutch him close and pray for morning to never come, because when he's dreaming, she can hold him again. But when he wakes, when his eyes open and he looks at the disgusting motel ceiling, he knows that she's dead, gone, burnt up days and weeks and months and years ago, a lifetime lost in flames, and then he's grown, getting dressed and brushing his teeth, yelling "Up and at 'em," and she's nothing anymore.

She’s nothing but a ghost he’d hunt, and he’s not her little boy anymore. He’s the soldier she never wanted him to be, and his brother (oh, he’d been so little the last time she held him) is miles taller than that baby she remembers kissing, and John, dear sweet Johnny—

She would ask forgiveness of them all, for doing this. For causing this. 

She would ask, but none of them would forgive her, because she knows they don’t think she did anything wrong in dealing with Azazel. 

They’ve all done the same.


	22. go rest high on that mountain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: go rest high on that mountain   
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Vince Gill.   
> Warnings: future!fic; AU  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 370  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: Lucifer and Michael, the final act of the war is one of forgiveness

The battlefield of the last war is scoured clean by fire and blood. The ground sizzles where Michael is bleeding, wings limp and limbs quivering.

Never has the fight been so hard, or Lucifer so powerful. Even when he was Sammael, Michael's elder brother, beloved Star of Morning, his strength was equal to Michael's own.

But now—for so long Lucifer had been locked away. Fought no one, expended no energy. He had been gathering his anger and his hatred for this battle, and Michael—Michael is so tired.

Lucifer’s sword is at his neck, eyes golden and green and the color of the first dawn. “What do you have to say now, Michael?” Lucifer hisses, as the world pauses, creation holding its breath. “Now, at the end of things—what sermons do you offer me?”

Michael looks at him, looks past him, to the sun. 

“Meet my eyes, God’s Sword,” Lucifer demands, slamming a fist into Michael’s chest. “Meet my gaze and tell me how forgiving our Father is.” 

Michael does, and he hears Dean Winchester whisper, _Let me talk to him_.

When he speaks, Dean says, “Heya, Sammy,” and Lucifer shudders. 

“D-Dean?” Lucifer’s eyes blink and are only green when he looks again. “Dean.”

“Sammy,” Dean says again. “You gotta stop. Seriously, you wanna be alone with someone who burns the world just ‘cause he wasn’t Daddy’s favorite?” 

Sam’s eyes flare golden and Lucifer is in control again, slicing the sword downward into Dean’s neck. 

Michael flings a wave of energy out, stopping the sword and throwing Lucifer back. _You can’t beat him_ , Dean says. _You won’t join him. And Sammy’s trying his best, but—_

Standing, Michael gazes at his brother. Lucifer had been the most glorious of them all, the Light-Bringer. Before the Son and before Man, Lucifer had been their Father’s favorite. His crowning achievement. Lucifer had been so beautiful. 

“You will never be happy,” Michael tells him. “Even when you are alone in the cosmos, the last thing living, you will not be happy.” He gracefully falls to his knees, head bowed. “I forgive you, brother,” Michael murmurs. “Now do what you must.” 

_Sammy_ , Dean whispers. 

Creation takes a breath and Michael hears Lucifer’s sword sing.


	23. the keeper of the stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: the keeper of the stars  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: future!fic  
> Pairings: implied Dean/Castiel  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 185  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: Castiel, God, "I forgive you"

It ends with a supernova, when Castiel takes everything he is and everything he has, sacrificing himself for a second time.

Dean lives, Michael utilizing Lucifer's distraction to end him, and the last thing Castiel ever sees of the earth is Dean cradling his brother's still form—but Sam breathes and that is what matters, and Castiel smiles as he is enveloped by an explosion of light he cannot control.

 _My child_ , a voice deeper than the stars and louder than time says, wrapping around him, in him, through him. _My child, you have done well. Rest now._

 _Father_ , Castiel says, feels, thinks. _Father, forgive me for doubting. For falling_.

 _No, Castiel_ , the creator of existence murmurs. _There is nothing to forgive. You fell because of love, not ambition or jealousy. You fell for the same reason My Son died._

Castiel sighs, surrendering all he is and all he has, one final thought for the human he chose above God. 

_Yes_ , his Father tells him, cradling him close, singing him back into the stars’ tapestry. _You will see that man again, when he at last comes home._


	24. the last temptation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: the last temptation   
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: spoilers for season 5  
> Pairings: Dean/Castiel-ish, NotMeg/Castiel(ish)  
> Rating: PG13  
> Wordcount: 310  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: Meg/Castiel, your conscience is heartbreaking

_Oh, it's so sweet of you, Castiel_ , she murmurs, placing one stolen hand to his vessel's cheek. (Or maybe this is his body now. He hasn't found any trace of Jimmy Novak since Raphael tore them apart.) 

_So very sweet, angel, how you care for that human. Is it orders? Or does he tempt you?_ She leans in close, lips to his skin, and says, _He is beautiful_. She smirks, glancing up at him through stolen lashes. _I've tasted him, you know. I almost had him, once, when I wore his baby brother, our bright MorningStar's vessel. Do you think Lucifer will mind, when he learns I got there first?_ She laughs as he pulls away.

 _Don't pretend you haven't wondered, sweetie_ , she says, letting her hand drop. _Don't pretend you haven't thought about taking him. He'd let you, if he thought it made you happy. To please those he cares about, he'd do anything_. She smiles, slow and sweet and sinful. _He'd let anything happen._

She tilts her head, listening to a Hellish voice he cannot hear. He doesn't hear much of Heaven anymore, either. 

_Gotta go, babe,_ she says. _But remember this, if nothing else—he'll tempt you, mostly unknowing, until you can't take it anymore. And when you finally let that useless conscience slip through your fingers, call me._

Her stolen body gives him one last smirk. _Lucifer's still got a soft spot for you, Castiel. If you bring him Michael’s vessel before Michael actually takes up residence, he might even let you keep Dean_.

She leaves, the body collapsed on the floor, and Castiel closes his eyes, seeking God's guidance, but his Father does not answer. 

(He doesn't want to, but he imagines Dean, Dean and Anna, Dean and Jimmy Novak's body—Dean would not be able to stop him.

Dean might not want to stop him.)


	25. It wasn't supposed to end like this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: It wasn't supposed to end like this  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Patricia Young  
> Warnings: future!fic; spoilers for season 5  
> Pairings: Dean/Castiel, possibly implied wincest, if you choose to take it as such  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 585  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: Dean/Castiel, apocafic a la Ruin and Beauty by Patricia Young

He can see the proof everywhere, in the ruin of cities. People dying where they stood, no warning, no chance. Breakfast dishes left, cars in the street, bodies lying where they fell.

Too many to bury, and too many to burn. He expects spirits to come after him, but not a single one ever does. They have better things to do, now. 

(Lucifer's gathering an army to storm Heaven. Any soul not there is gangpressed in. That's what Cas says, and he'd know, right? If anyone left on Earth does, it's him.)

There are survivors, of course. There are always survivors of the massacre, of the earthquake or volcano or hurricane. Always those who grieve and mourn, and try to bury the dead. To sing the memories of those gone to the stars. 

He isn't exactly their leader—he never sets out to command the group, at least. But word gets around, even now, and people flock to him as one who knows.

(He doesn't, not really. He's got an angel on his shoulder and one in his blood, but he's still just a man. Just as lost and confused as everyone else, except he knew that it was coming. His whole life, he thinks sometimes, he knew.)

It isn't long before nature begins reclaiming the bones of the cities, grass through pavement, vines up skyscrapers, wolves and panthers prowling through the ruins, coyotes sniffing at the edges. 

He leaves them to it because survivors should stick together. If they can make a living out of this calamity, so be it. 

(The creatures stay away from his group, the terrified survivors who flinch at shadows and cry at dawn. There are only sixty-six so far. He hopes more will come. None are younger than sixteen and none older than fifty-seven. They need more. They can't be all that's left. They just can't be.)

Castiel stays the night, sometimes, taking breaks from his quest. He always shows when Dean calls, those few times he’s cornered with no other way out. They don’t talk any more than they ever did, but when it all gets to be too much, the world on his shoulders—still and always, it seems—having someone who doesn’t expect miracles is a balm.

Cas was there, after all. Back when Dean was just a man without everything depending on him. Cas was there, the only left who was.

( _Tell me your name_ , he hears the Star of Morning whisper in his dreams. _Tell me your name, my dear. Do you know what he calls you, this body that feels like home, this mind that sings the same song as my own?_ )

Whenever he stops to think, to remember, Dean recalls the old days, before Stanford and Dad and everything spiraled out of control. He tries to see that Sammy in his mind, young and idealistic and so hopeful. 

When things get really depressing, those memories are the only thing that keeps him going.

( _He calls you brother_ , the Prince of Lies tells him. _He calls you brother and he loves you oh so very much_.)

He’s got an angel on his shoulder and one in his blood, and he’s the only person the surviving humans trust. 

“Don’t worry, Dean,” Castiel always tells him before returning to his quest. “I have faith in you.” 

(He tries to ignore Lucifer, wearing that face and that voice, and remember what used to be, back when they were young and innocent, back before they ended the world.)


	26. future lore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: future lore  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: future!fic, AU  
> Pairings: none stated  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 700  
> Point of view: first  
> Prompt: Dean/Sam, highway to Hell  
> Notes: I never state it, but the narrator is Ben Braedon from 3.2 “The Kids Are Alright”

Those who survive... cope. All they can do is endure. 

o0o

The end begins on a beautiful day (in some places) when a nice enough boy is stabbed in the back by someone he spared. 

That boy is never so nice again. 

o0o 

Winchesters are made to survive. They're like cockroaches that way. So even though the world ends, hellfire raining from the sky while the angels flee like scared bunnies to a far corner of the cosmos(or maybe another nice enough boy said _angels aren't real_ and they weren't anymore), even though Creation cries for its Maker, unheard and unanswered, there are still Winchesters. 

Two of them, in fact. And probably not the two you expect. 

(Just tell the story, you say? But I am.) 

o0o 

The beginning ends when a pretty little blonde (she’s good with a gun and better with a knife, so you better watch out and you better think twice) catches a demon’s fancy. 

You see, for those in the know, the entire tapestry got rewoven that day. The Campbell family should have been a blip on the radar, a little clan of hunters who’d die a hundred years later in the demon wars. 

There were no vessels then. Those came later, when that spitfire Mary made a deal. 

(Hush. You wanted the truth, didn’t you? I can’t help that you don’t like it.) 

o0o 

So, the mother of two vessels (though, of course, that wasn’t true yet) marries a soldier. She’s a hunter; he’s a warrior. Match made in Heaven, or Hell, if you want to get technical. They’re both trying to escape their pasts, though—doesn’t it always?—the past comes calling with fire and blood. 

(Fine, fine, I’ll skip ahead a bit. Sheesh, you’re impatient.) 

o0o 

So, there's this nice enough boy and his overprotective big brother. The boy gets stabbed in the back and dies in his brother's arms. 

(Oh, you know that part? Hmm. I guess I'll skip ahead some more.) 

o0o 

In Hell, that overprotective big brother becomes the Tormentor's favorite pupil, with potential to spare. He takes to torturing like blood to a knife, like he'd been made, bred, and born for it. Never has Alistair had such a student, not in all the eons since Sammael became Lucifer. (And yes, that's important. Remember that.) 

Anyway, though he doesn't know it, when he takes the razor from Alistair's bloodstained fingers and slices a poor soul from neck to navel, he shatters the first lock on the door of Lucifer's cage. 

But that's not the point. Dean Winchester broke the first lock, yes, and his sweet little brother—no longer quite so sweet, and actually taller and broader, if you want to get technical(isn’t that the way with little brothers?)—broke the last. 

So, yeah. That's what happened. 

(Huh? What comes after? Well...) 

o0o 

Those who survive... cope. All they can do is endure. We're survivors, sweetheart. We're like cockroaches, us Winchesters. Dean and Sam didn't make it—that final battle, when Lucifer and Michael fought for the first time since the War in Heaven, burned them both up in incandescent light, brighter than the sun, and far hotter. They were scorched to nothingness. 

I wouldn't have believed it myself, but my brother told me so. 

Yeah, I know... he could bring them back, maybe. And the angels, too. Except he doesn't do that anymore. He refuses, or maybe he can’t. Because like he wished away the angels, he also removed the power, see. He's just a normal anymore. Like me. 

Well, as much as we can be, us Winchester boys. 

(Hey, you wanted the truth. Dean and Sam are dead, but they died together. Jesse swore, that one time I asked, that they knew, that they held each other in those final moments, soul to soul as they left existence. 

Jesse swore. And he doesn't lie to me.) 

o0o 

Hey, look, sorry. I gotta go. My brother's calling. Maybe next time you'll request an easier story, yeah? 

Oh, don't worry. It's no secret. I just... sometimes, it's hard to talk about, you know? 

Anyway. We'll endure. Nothing else to do, and we're Winchesters, me and Jesse. 

We'll survive, 'cause it's what we do.


	27. ponderings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: ponderings  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: spoilers for season 4  
> Pairings: implied one-sided Dean/Castiel  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 170  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Dean/Castiel, Castiel asks Dean if he would prefer the angel to have a female vessel

"Sam," Castiel said, as soon as he appeared, "may I ask you a question?"

Sam closed his eyes, counted to ten, opened them and spit into the sink. Counting to ten in French, now, he rinsed his mouth, spit again, and turned to face the angel. "Of course," he said. "What's up?"

Castiel, as always, looked slightly mystified at the ways of humans. His gaze went from Sam's eyes to the toothbrush now resting on the rim of the sink to the cup and finally back to Sam's. "Would Dean prefer if my vessel were female?"

Sam blinked. "Come again?"

Quietly, Castiel repeated, "Would Dean prefer if my vessel were female?"

Sam canted his head to the side, considering for a moment. He counted to twenty in Latin before saying, "I honestly don't think it matters."

Hesitantly, a new look for Castiel, he asked, "That is the truth?"

"Yeah," Sam said, nodding. 

Castiel smiled. "Very well," he said and vanished.

Sam sighed, flipped off the light, and went to bed.


	28. Summer ends and we wonder where we are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Summer ends and we wonder where we are  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Dar Williams   
> Warnings: AU; takes place sometime in season 5 (I think)  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 215  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Supernatural; Meg/Dean; "Don't be a sissy, Dean. Do it like you _mean_ it."

He's hesitant, fingers loose on the knife. Quick little glances at her before he looks away. Weak and pathetic.

"Don't be a sissy, Dean," she snarls. "Do it like you _mean_ it."

He flinches. There is nothing of Alistair's star pupil left in him. He's just a broken man now.

She rolls her eyes, turning away. "You're not worth it," she says. Two years out of Hell have turned him soft.

"Please let Sam go," he whispers at her back. No bite. Not even a bark. Just a bag of skin walking around with shattered bones.

She laughs. "This feels like home, Dean," she purrs, tossing a smirk over her shoulder. "Bein' in Sammy again. This is where I was meant to be."

Dean's grip on the knife changes. He moves too quick to follow, and the edge is at her throat. 

"You won't," she says. "You went to Hell for this boy."

"And I learned so much," he replies, caressing her skin. "Let my brother go or die in him." He smirks now, and all she can see is Alistair. "He's the Vessel, babe," Dean says. "He'll come back. You won't, not again." He tilts his head. "Maybe I'll kill you anyway."

His hand twists. She doesn't even have time to scream.


	29. man's best friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: man’s best friend  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: future!fic  
> Pairings: implied Dean/Castiel  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 700  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Dean/Castiel, newly human!Castiel decides to start a little family for himself by getting a dog

During all the eons he watched humanity, Castiel never truly understood the drive humans had to supplement their family life with a non-human component—namely, a "pet" of some kind, most often a canine or feline.

But now that he is human himself, cut off from Father and the garrisons, away from his family for the first time in—well, _ever_ , Castiel is lonely. He has never comprehended loneliness, and if this is how humans feel all the time, he also finally comprehends why so many of them end their lives before Father calls them home. 

Dean and Sam are often away, busy with hunting, trying to atone for sins that are not theirs, and refuse to listen when he explains that Father does not hold them accountable. That had been Father’s last words to Castiel— _tell those boys that they are free and should be at peace, My son, tell them I release them from all bonds_ —but Dean and Sam do not care. They feel compelled to seek redemption and do not believe that Father has absolved them.

Whatever their reasoning, they leave him alone often enough that he decides he needs companionship. Dean has forbidden him from interacting with other humans when left in solitude; he needs more lessons in being human, apparently, but Dean is gone most of the time. Sam is still uncomfortable around Castiel, avoiding his presence, unlikely to meet his eyes. Castiel has tried assuring him that there are “no hard feelings” but Sam shuns him nonetheless, out of shame, he believes. A completely human reaction that escapes Castiel, but Castiel can only give Sam time. 

Anyway. Castiel is tired of how quiet the house is when he’s alone. He doesn’t like the TV and sometimes the radio refuses to work, since when Dean _is_ home he tinkers with it, making “improvements” that increase the difficulty Castiel has in operating it. 

Castiel goes to the pound the day after Dean and Sam leave on a hunt that should take them at least a week to complete. He has researched “pets” on the internet(often getting sidetracked by various things, so he has spent months seeking out the right kind) and decided that he wishes for a mixed breed canine. They seem to be the best—without many of the ailments purebred dogs suffer, and far more affectionate than any of the felines. Castiel has had enough aloofness.

The attendant shows him to the dog pens and he misses the days when he could understand their language. He walks amongst them, looking at their form and features with purely human eyes, unable to see beneath the skin to their hearts and souls. How to choose the right one for a companion if he cannot truly glimpse their _being_? 

The attendant chatters on, naming them, explaining their histories. Once, Castiel could have _known_ them in a single glance. Castiel hears her words but does not listen. His attention is caught by the dog in the final cage, lying in the corner while all his fellows demand attention. He has not even looked up. His ears are not raised like the others, trying to capture a heart.

“What about that one?” he asks, nodding to the dog. 

The attendant says, “He’s been here awhile. His last family was abusive; we found him wandering the streets, half-starved.” She is sad as she tells him, “He’ll probably be put down soon.”

The dog has given up, Castiel realizes. He does not think himself worth saving. 

“He is the one I choose,” Castiel decides. 

Castiel’s dog, named Israel, walks out of the pound at his side, only perking up slightly. He will heal, though. Castiel will take care of him, and in return, he will love Castiel. 

Once, he could have spoken directly to the dog’s soul, assured him of his safety, soothed the aches and pains of a life full of suffering and sorrow. Now, he can only vow in feeble words that Israel shall want for nothing. 

He will let his actions speak. He is human now. He is human, and dogs are called “man’s best friend,” so Israel will come to know in time what Castiel is saying.


	30. blood in the water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: blood in the water  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: spoilers for aired season 5  
> Pairings: Gabriel/Sam, implied Dean/Castiel  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 330  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: Gabriel/Sam, they poured blood into his mouth

Gabriel's never really hated humans before. They've just always _been there_ , little puppets for his amusement. If God loved them so much, maybe He'd show up and fix the things when Gabriel broke them, you know? But He hasn’t yet, so here’s hoping, right?

Anyway. He’s never hated humans before. 

But this—Dean’s not moving in the corner, blood pooling around his head, which, as far as Gabriel knows, is not a good thing at all. Humans bleeding is generally bad for their health. And Sam—half a dozen men are holding him, at least three as big as he is, forcing his mouth open and pouring blood down his throat. 

So, no, Gabriel has never hated humans before. He’s never killed them just for existing before. He’s never smote them except in one of his games, when they deserved it anyway.

But these men, they deserve it. They deserve it a _lot_.

Once the men are pieces of dust in the muggy air, Gabriel goes to Sam. He yells for Castiel, wondering why the kid isn’t there already, helping his human, and gets a short response— _dodging Zachariah, what?_

 _Your boy’s in trouble_ , he says. _I suggest you hurry._

Gabriel makes sure Dean stops bleeding, but he doesn’t know enough about human physiology to actually get in there and fix whatever’s broken. He looks down at Sam, blood still on his face, and gently wipes it away.

He’s never hated humans before, but he’s never really loved them, either. Sam blinks up at him, finally back from wherever he took himself to escape, and mutters, “Dean?”

“He’ll be fine,” Gabriel says as Castiel pops in to make it true. _You tell me what to do,_ Gabriel says, _and I’ll heal him._

Together, they mend their humans and Gabriel vows to keep a better eye on the stupid kids, because humans are a vicious pack of animals. 

They do have their highpoints, though, he thinks, watching Sam check on Dean.


	31. pride goeth, the serpent says

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: pride goeth, the serpent says  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: spoilers for everything aired  
> Pairings: Sam/Lucifer; a smidge of Dean/Sam, if you want it  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 255  
> Point of view: second   
> Prompt: Sam/Lucifer, "Pride come before the fall"

You'll say yes, he purrs. You will. Everyone else has, and when we're together, we'll rule and tame and break this world. We'll be a force unlike any other—we'll shake His throne and cast Him low, our foot on His neck. We'll be everything, better than all that was or is or has yet to be. We are endless, beyond bounds. 

You'll say yes, he promises, pride in his eyes and his words. You'll say yes to me. We'll be everything.

But you have a brother and salt and blood and gunpowder and leather and engine grease. You have years with him and years apart, Hell and college between you but unable to shake everything that came before.

So even if you say yes—which you won't, you swear, you won't—it won't be a complete surrender. 

You'll say yes to me, he whispers, kissing your forehead, your nose, your lips. You'll say yes.

Even if you do, a long time ago, you already said yes to Dean.

Pride defeated him before, you think, tasting apple and blood. Pride is your sin, too.

The only place left to fall is to him. 

But Dean will pick you up and dust you off and hand you a knife and a gun, so even if you say yes— _which you never ever will_ —you have a lifeline.

You'll say yes to me, he swears, anointing your brow with blood. You'll give me your consent and   
Creation will be ours.

Pride, you think. Unending. Weakness. 

Yours, too.


	32. You came into my heart today and didn’t know it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: You came into my heart today and didn’t know it  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from James Humphrey  
> Warnings: AU  
> Pairings: pre-Gabriel/Sam, one-sided Lucifer/Sam, very much pre-Dean/Castiel, past-Lucifer/Michael   
> Rating: PGish  
> Wordcount: 520  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Supernatural, Sam/Gabriel, any. Vampire!AU; Sam wonders how the hell Gabriel can be a Master Vampire.

He didn't see it, at first, not at all. Gabriel said, _call me Gabe_ , and while he wasn't scrawny, he was short. _Conveniently pocket-sized_ , Dean chortled, and then, _Don't forget, Sammy, even the Jolly Green Giant is a midget next to you._

Dean ducked Sam's retaliatory smack and left the room, laughing. Sam just continued to sit there, pondering the Master Vampire who was busying courting him with chocolate and certain annoyances removed. (Not that anyone could prove Gabriel was responsible, but Sam knew.)

Gabriel wasn’t like Lucifer, or Uriel. Even Raphael, with his hospital for the poor, was… well, _scary_. But Gabriel?

Lucifer tried courting Sam, once. He was considered _the_ Master Vampire, the one the rest bowed to, when push came to shove. The deciding factor in all warfare, the final voice in all choices as a race. His previous mate, Michael, had left in a huff, starting his own empire in California. Loyalties had been divided for awhile, but luckily the vampires kept it all in-house. Humans had only known because a lesser thrall of Michael’s, Anachel, had gotten drunk with a reporter. (Both of them were dealt with, of course. But not before the damage had been done.)

Anyway, Lucifer tried, but Sam said no. Very determinedly, Sam had said no. And when Lucifer didn’t seem inclined to listen… well. 

Sam is a researcher in vampire biology and culture. He’s respectable and generally well-liked. But Dean? Dean’s a _Hunter_ , the kind who takes offense when vampires don’t respect boundaries. The kind that police don’t sanction and the government turns a blind eye to. The kind that vampires have tried to wipe out before, and Dean took out half a dozen of Lucifer’s highest-ranked minions before Lucifer got the message. He’d have taken out Lucifer, if it wouldn’t have created a terrible power vacuum, and if Lucifer hadn’t backed off his baby brother. (Sam knows Dean still thinks about him like that, sometimes. It’s annoying, but kind of sweet.)

So, Lucifer backed off and Sam had really thought that might be the end of it. But now Gabriel was courting him, and Sam really couldn’t see it. Gabriel smiled too much to be a Master. 

Sam didn’t say no. He let himself be charmed by Gabriel. And then, something happened one night. Dean’s contacts said that one of Gabriel’s favorite brothers, younger than him, one he’d helped teach, years and years ago, was hurt in some bullshit battle between Azazel (Lucifer’s Blade) and Zachariah (Michael’s Voice). 

_Castiel_ , Dean said. _Gabriel’s kid brother. He’s pretty, for a fang._

Gabriel secreted Castiel away somewhere, pulled Sam down for a quick kiss, and went to visit his oldest brother, _the_ Master Vampire Lucifer.

In that moment, seeing the rage in Gabriel’s eyes—for the first time, Sam also saw the power. There was nothing bumbling or cute in Gabriel at all. It was Dean, storming into Lucifer’s headquarters, killing everything that got in his way. 

_You’d better come back_ , he called after Gabriel.

Gabriel smirked over his shoulder, blowing a kiss.

If Gabriel came back, Sam thought he might even say yes.


	33. the first cut is the deepest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: the first cut is the deepest  
> Disclaimer: not my character; title from Sheryl Crow  
> Warnings: slight AU; dark  
> Pairings: none stated  
> Rating: R  
> Point of view: third  
> Wordcount: 520  
> Prompt: Dean Winchester, Fifteen men on a dead man's chest

You always remember your first. And the first is always the hardest.

When he wakes in his coffin, before remembering Sam and Dad and Azazel and his deal, Dean remembers how that nameless soul screamed. Begged and whimpered and sobbed. 

And then the second, and the third, and they just kept getting easier. All the way down the line, they got easier and easier.

He slammed the door on Hell, sealing it up tight in a far corner of his mind, and focused on getting out of the coffin.

He had to find Sam.

o0o

Hell visited him in his dreams, with Alistair's voice and Alistair's touch, with Alistair's razor slick and cold in his hand.

The second soul had wept from the first cut, even after he cut out her eyes and tear-ducts.

The third—well, the third never made a sound. Not until the end when he finally sobbed and screamed and begged.

The fourth leered almost as well as Alistair and Dean had the satisfaction of tormenting him until he didn’t know his own name.

Souls five and six were a couple when alive. He didn't know what exactly their sins had been, but it wasn’t long before they turned on each other.

Soul seven had promised him the world, if he'd just lower the blade, swore that he had a ticket to Heaven if he let the poor bastard off the rack. 

Souls eight, nine, and ten were monotonous and boring, but soul eleven took some skill to break.

Soul twelve... soul twelve had already been shattered, but Alistair said Lilith especially wanted her to suffer, so Dean spent a long time with that one.

Souls thirteen and fourteen weren’t anything to write home about, though the fifteenth had been some major player on Earth. A tyrant or warlord or something. Alistair helped him with that one.

o0o

“Was it what you expected?” Alistair asks, as Dean examines his toys. “Down below… all those people you destroyed for me?”

Dean listens as Alistair prattles on, in love with the sound of his own voice. It’s not new, almost comfortingly familiar.

If he can just fall back into his mindspace from Hell, maybe this won’t break him completely.

“You were magnificent,” Alistair purrs. “Even I didn’t do so well with my first soul.”

Dean flinches, his back to Alistair. 

“You could’ve ruled Hell, boyo,” Alistair says. “Given a few more centuries. The times, they are a-changing.” 

“Yeah,” Dean replies, spinning around and stalking to Alistair, a syringe full of holy salt water. “Tormenter being tormented and all.”

Alistair’s smirk reminds him of sulfuric air and bone-handled knives, of flames and flayed skin. “No matter what happens, Dean,” Alistair tells him, “know that I won.” 

Not even Alistair’s screams can erase the dread that single sentence wells up in him.

o0o

You never forget your first.

His hand trembled around the handle. The cuts were shallow and quick. He wasn’t crying, because Hell had already burned away all his tears.

The whole time, he whispered _Sorry_. 

Until he didn’t anymore. 

o0o

The first is the hardest. 

All the rest came easy.


	34. There’s never a winner of the quickdraw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: There’s never a winner of the quickdraw  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Big&Rich.   
> Warnings: AU for season 4; spoilers for season 5  
> Pairings: none stated  
> Rating: R  
> Wordcount: 350  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: Sam+Dean (no wincest please), Sam went to hell in Dean's place and lasted two weeks

No one expected Lilith to look into Sam's eyes, that night Dean's deal came due, and actually agree to a trade. 

And when Sam Winchester gets to Hell, the line to carve him up is almost out the door. 

o0o 

"Now, your daddy," Alistair drawls the first day, tracing the silver dagger along Sam's flank. "He never screamed. And your mama—my, what a mouth she had. Even I'd never heard some’a those curses before." 

Sam bites all the way through his tongue but he never makes a sound. 

o0o 

(Dean Winchester is carving a bloody swath through everything topside and Alistair cackles while Sammy cries.) 

o0o 

"Poor little Sammy," Alistair murmurs, wrapping himself completely around what's left of Sam's tattered soul. "You only ever tried to do the right thing. The best you could." He licks Sam's skin and it flakes off. 

Alistair gives the demons one cut each. Sam begs for the pain to stop. 

It doesn't. 

o0o 

No one expected Lilith to smile and amble over, press her lips to Sam's and whisper into his mouth, _A deal's a deal, Sammy-boy. This time, no take-backs._

o0o 

No angels come for Sam Winchester. Alistair marks the days on his ribcage and says, “You can make all this pain stop, you know.” He offers the razor, lets the firelight glint off it. “Three little letters. One syllable.” 

Sam spits blood on his cheek. Alistair smiles. 

o0o 

On the day Sam Winchester mutters _yes_ through broken teeth and bleeding gums, it rains topside. 

He’s been dead(again) for less than two days. In Hell, it’s been about two weeks. Maybe. No one really keeps score. Just like there was no time in Eden , so there is no time in Hell. 

Time’s relative anyway. What matters is this: 

Alistair says, stepping back from his pretty painting of Sam’s entrails, “All this can stop.” 

And Sam says, though his voice is gone with screaming, “Yes.” 

o0o 

No angel comes for Sam Winchester. And when Lilith is killed, Lucifer walks free from his cage, clothed in Winchester skin. 

His brother meets him at the doorway, clothed in nearly the same.


	35. You will live in vain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: You will live in vain  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Thoreau  
> Warnings: AU  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 290  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: any/any, _Crying won't help you, praying won't do you no good_

He finally has the monster trapped, locked down tight with blessed chains, with a ring of holy water, with the righteous determination to save the world. 

The monster just watches silently, liquid green eyes wide with shock and fear, and he unsheathes his sharpest knife. 

"You understand, don't you, Sammy?" he asks gently. "The hunter in you knows I'm right." 

But the monster still doesn't speak. It’s calm, unmoving, in the center of the circle, waiting. 

He’ll have to get close, to make sure the monster is put down for good. And he’ll have to be quick, because the monster’s deluded brother should be waking soon. 

“Sammy,” he says, “just let me do this. Don’t fight. You know it’s the only way to keep the world safe from the evil growin’ in you.” 

And the monster finally opens its mouth to say quietly, “The only evil I see is a good man giving in to fear.” 

He sighs and steps up to very edge of the circle, fingers tight on the hilt of his knife. “Let me put you down. It’s the only way your brother won’t die tryin’ to save somethin’ that just can’t be saved.” 

And now the monster’s voice is so gentle, so soft, when it says, “This is your last chance, Gordon. Break the circle and let me leave.” 

He scoffs and the monster’s lips curl in a sad smile. “Remember,” it says, “I gave you the choice.” 

“I wouldn’t have even give him that,” Dean drawls from behind him and he spins in place, knife raised. 

Too late, though, because Dean’s got a gun and the last thing Gordon sees is the monster’s brother, eyes cold, and the last thing he hears is the monster, laughing.


	36. giving thanks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: giving thanks  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: spoilers for aired season 5  
> Pairings: none stated  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount:   
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: Dean/Sam, "The only thing I'm thankful for is you"

The first and last actual Thanksgiving meals Sam had were at Stanford. Dean did his best most of those years they were kids, but the meager offerings were something even Sam as a boy knew weren't good enough.

Not that he didn't enjoy those times, and not that he intentionally let on to Dean his disappointment, but—well, despite what they both say, Dean's not an idiot. Not by a longshot.

He and Jess had plans to visit her family for Thanksgiving that last year. The year before that, all the kids left in the dorms had banded together. After the fire, Sam wasn’t feeling very thankful and Dean let the date slip by without mentioning. Each consecutive year, the world seemed to be conspiring against them and holidays grew steadily more painful. 

And now, after they’ve both died, after Bobby’s been crippled, after Ellen and Jo and so many others… after Dean broke the first Seal and Sam blasted open the last—what do they have to be thankful for?

Sam wakes up on Thanksgiving morning prepared to ignore the day and Dean’s watching Macy’s Parade, mocking or praising the floats and the performances. 

“Sammy!” he calls, throwing a pillow at Sam’s head. “Dude, you gotta see this one. It’s Shrek!” 

Smiling without even thinking about it, Sam crawls down the bed to lie beside his brother. 

Maybe there is something to be thankful for.


	37. standing in the flames

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: standing in the flames   
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: spoilers for season 5  
> Pairings: OMC/Ruby, Ruby/Dean-ish  
> Rating: R  
> Point of view: third  
> Wordcount: 185  
> Prompt: Dean/Ruby (version 1.0), opportunity

Cliché as it is, she's playing with fire and she knows it. Thing is, though, that even back when she was a pale little whisp of a girl-child, cowering from her husband's meaty fists and dreaming of the words to damn them both, she adored the flames that he lit only on the darkest, coldest nights, when her flesh wasn't enough to keep him warm. She's never feared fire. She's worshipped it and danced with it, leaned into its caress and whispered _yes, yes, burn the world down, yes, take me whole._

Dean Winchester hates her. So she leans in close and grins at him, says things just to piss him off, lets him know that she can save him, if she wants, lets him know that Sam's following her lead and coming when she calls. 

Dean Winchester hates her, but soon he'll be just like her, because Lilith and Alistair have such plans for him...

Sam is her endgame, her king and her lord, but Dean... if she has them both, she'll have it all, and she's always flourished under fire's touch.


	38. paternal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: paternal   
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: spoilers for season 4  
> Pairings: Azazel/John, John/Mary  
> Rating: PG13  
> Wordcount: 245  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: Azazel/John, his only hope lies with his worst enemy

He realizes, one foot already in the door, that everything has led to this point. 

His baby boy is lying in a hospital bed and will never wake up. Whatever damage Azazel caused was compounded by that semi, and Dean is as good as dead. 

Azazel did it, and Azazel can damn well undo it, and John knows that Dean will never forgive him. 

The words roll off his tongue with ease and he wonders if this is how Mary felt, that night he died. If she hadn't made a deal, what would the world be like now? There wouldn't be a Sam, so would Azazel's choice be someone else, someone more likely to turn? 

Doesn't matter. Mary made a deal, and now John is, and he hopes so very hard that neither of his boys ever do. 

"John," Azazel purrs, grinning up at him. "Such a pleasure doing business with you."

John suffers through the kiss because Sam needs Dean, and the world needs Dean, and John needs to know that Dean's alive. When Azazel releases him, he goes straight to Dean and tries so hard not to cry, not to just scoop Dean up and cradle the boy to his chest like he hasn’t since those nights just after the fire. 

“I’m proud of you,” he says. _I’m proud of you and I love you and you can save us all, Dean_ , is what he means, and then he goes back to Azazel.


	39. You who wrote out your own death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: You who wrote out your own death  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Anne Sexton  
> Warnings: AU for 6.5; character death  
> Rating: PG  
> Pairings: Dean/Lisa, Dean/Sam  
> Wordcount: 250  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Sam/Dean, Sam didn't realize his mistake of letting Dean be turn into vampire until Dean turned him. Vampires mate for life.

Dean felt his soul die as he drank Ben down. Now he and Sam were a matched set.

He let Ben's bloodless corpse fall and spared Lisa's horror-filled face a single glance. His prints were all over the house anyway.

He needed to find Sammy, to show him what _monster_ truly was. The Winchesters, both late of Hell, one Alistair's greatest pupil and one vessel to the Star of Morning—hunted by the law, feared by the hunters, hated by the supernatural.

 _You look into the dark and the dark looks back_ , said some wise man once.

 _True that_ , Dean thought, deciding he still hungered.

In her shock, Lisa didn't even scream. 

And Sammy waited for him, the man who had been his brother a trip to Hell ago. The man who let this happen to him.

The boy he used to croon lullabies to, the boy he fed and clothed and taught how to live. The boy he let go to Stanford, the boy he carried out of more than one fire, the boy who died in his arms and he sold his soul for.

Sammy waited for him, and Sammy was his, and he would destroy anything that gets in his way back to Sam.

Sam is his, and stolen blood rushed through him, demanding he claim his mate, and he left the house where he lived a half-life for a year.

And Sam's scent wafted on the air, calling him home, so Dean went.


	40. dreams were all they gave for free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: dreams were all they gave for free  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Janis Ian.   
> Warnings: very AU; implied past non-con  
> Rating: PG13  
> Wordcount: 785  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: Lucifer/Castiel + any, AU wherein the angels are a giant mafia family and Lucifer's helping Castiel with training/gun skills/etc.

Castiel never wanted to join the family business. He was angry when Gabriel left because Gabe didn't ask him to go. And now, all of Father's attention is on Castiel, grooming him to take Gabriel's place, whether Castiel wants to or not. 

"C'mon, little brother," Lucifer says, one hand low on Castiel's back, the other wrapped around a knife. Lucifer has always been one of Castiel's least favorite brothers, just below Raphael on the list. 

"You know," Lucifer continues, moving his free hand to grasp Castiel's right, arranging his fingers around the knife's hilt, "ever since Uriel's betrayal, Father has kept a special eye on you, Cas." 

Castiel nods, because he did know that. He followed Uriel around like a puppy, eager for any scraps of attention. Uriel kept him safe from Raphael’s grasp, though Uriel didn’t know it. But Uriel was so intimidating that even Raphael stayed a safe distance away. 

Gabe, Michael, and Lucifer are the only ones who didn’t fear Uriel. And when he finally turned on Castiel, only Anna’s sudden appearance saved him. 

And if Father or Lucifer or even Joshua, the eldest son and Father’s heir, knew what Castiel was doing… 

“Hold it like this,” Lucifer whispers in Castiel’s ear; Castiel shudders, wishing desperately he could pull away, angry at Gabriel for not taking him along, and hoping that the Winchester brothers can help him. 

“Father thinks you could really be something one day, kid,” Lucifer tells him, correcting his grip on the knife. “Balthazar wants you with him, shadowing him for the next few months.”

“I’ll go wherever Father wants me to,” Castiel responds. “I’ll do whatever he wants.” 

His single chance of escaping this life and surviving is if the Winchesters come through. Why didn’t Gabriel take him, too? 

“Remember, Cas,” Lucifer says, “Father’s always got eyes on you.”

Castiel nods. “I understand.” His fingers tighten on the knife and Lucifer smiles. 

He was supposed to meet Sam tonight, hand over a few copies of some of Father’s more incriminating files. Sam swore that his brother had connections, would be able to help.

Castiel was once Father’s favorite, his boy with a sweet grin and laughing eyes. But Castiel isn’t cut out for this life and everyone knows it. And with Uriel’s betrayal a fresh wound… Azazel and Alistair would even enjoy it, if Castiel proved traitor. In Father’s grief, he’d most likely give them permission to show Castiel the error of his ways. 

“C’mon,” Lucifer says. “Throw the knife. If you hit the target in the heart, I’ll give you a prize.” 

Castiel doesn’t want anything Lucifer would consider a prize. But he imagines Lucifer’s smirking face and the knife goes in, straight through the middle. Lucifer whoops and turns Castiel to face him, with that same damnable smirk twisting his lips. 

“Little brother,” he says, “you really should invest in stealth training. Meg followed you last week.” He makes a show of his hands being empty before revealing a driver’s license. 

“If I give the word,” Lucifer says, “she’ll strike and your pretty little lawyer is dead.” 

Castiel’s mouth is dry, and he thinks his heart might have skipped a beat or three. 

“And Michael,” Lucifer continues, so gently Castiel wants to bury a knife in his throat. “Our dear brother wants to taste the lawyer’s brother. It’s been so long since Father really let him loose… how long do you think it would take, before Special Agent Winchester screamed? He doesn’t look that tough to me.” Lucifer’s eyes are sharp when he adds, “Of course, I never thought you’d betray us.” 

“I… I haven’t yet,” Castiel stammers, backing up a step. “I just… Father wouldn’t let me go, you know he wouldn’t, and I can’t stay here, Lucifer. I _can’t_.” 

Lucifer nods but doesn’t speak. “I do understand,” he says softly, reaching out to trace his fingers along Castiel’s jaw. “And if you do me a favor, Castiel, I’ll see to it that Lilith creates a new identity for you. I can even send you to Gabriel, if that’s what you want.” 

Any favor Lucifer could want isn’t a favor Castiel wants to do. But… “The Winchesters,” he asks. “If I do this for you, you’ll get me a new identity and you’ll leave them alone.” 

“Of course,” Lucifer murmurs, leaning in. “Don’t you trust me, little brother?” he breathes into Castiel’s neck before his lips are warm on Castiel’s skin and his teeth bite down just enough to feel, but not enough to hurt. Not yet. 

No, Castiel doesn’t trust him. The only one he’s ever trusted was Gabriel, and Gabriel left him behind. 

“What’s the favor?” Castiel asks. 

He already knows he’ll do it, whatever it is.


	41. the last stand of a dying man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: the last stand of a dying man  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: character death; AU; spoilers for season 5  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 230  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Sam & Dean (and anyone else), they almost got away

Dean's dying in a coma, Dad's quiet and tired, and Sam is silently freaking the fuck out, angry and bitter and so damn weary, and he's praying and praying and praying, on his knees in the chapel, by Dean's bed, staring at Dad and begging him to make everything better.

And Dad just looks at him, so very tired, and he says, "I got nothing, Sammy, I don't know, I can't--"

And this isn't what Sam wanted, when he asked Gabriel for a do-over, but he _doesn't know that_ because Gabriel wiped everything away, all the future-knowledge, of angels and vessels and God walking the Earth. 

This John Winchester doesn't know Azazel's name. This John Winchester doesn't make a deal. He thinks about it, he wants to, his fingers are itching to draw the symbols and his tongue keeps starting to form the words, but he doesn't know Azazel's name and Bobby Singer died a few weeks ago, neck sliced clean-through by Azazel's daughter.

This Dean Winchester listens to a reaper calling itself Tessa and will never house God's Sword. And this Sam Winchester's heart breaks, clutching close his brother's still-warm corpse, and dies during a routine hunt a month later.

And this John Winchester, in this world made by Gabriel's meddling, whispers _yes_ with teary sigh when Michael steps into his dreams and asks him to help save the world.


	42. dark and unnatural

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: dark and unnatural   
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from _Practical Magic_  
>  Warnings: AU; dark  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 280  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Supernatural, Sam, What opened its eyes, when the demon brought Sam Winchester back to life?

_What's dead should stay dead_ doesn't apply to Sammy. 

It should, though. It really should.

.

Dean is so exhilarated that Sam's alive, and they have to deal with Jake, and Bobby keeps watching Sam warily, and Ellen keeps out of reach, and Dean knows, he does, but he could not care less. 

Sam's alive. 

(Sam's not.)

.

Sam's back is to Dean, as he reads though another obscure text, looking for a way out of the deal that returned his life. 

Sam's eyes are paler than ivory. And he doesn't need an obscure text. 

.

Sam is not a vessel for Lucifer, and no one knows about the angels yet. 

Dean is a vessel for Michael, and the months pass by too swiftly, and it’s three weeks, two, one. 

It’s today.

.

Lilith commands the hounds and they do not move. 

Dean looks at Sam with eyes that should see but don’t. 

Dean will only ever see his little brother when he looks at Sam, whether or not his little brother is alone in the flesh. 

Sam holds up a hand and Lilith burns while the hounds scream. 

.

Dean looks at his little brother, eyes pale as ivory. 

Sam looks at his big brother and smiles. 

_What’s dead should stay dead_. Worlds die when it doesn’t. 

But Sam’s alive. And so is Dean. 

There is no Righteous Man, and no Boy-King of Hell. There are only Winchesters, one bright as a fire and one with eyes the color of bone. There are only brothers, about to burn the world because one is blind when it comes to the other, and the other should never have breathed again after breathing his last.


	43. look down, look down, sweet Jesus doesn’t care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: look down, look down, sweet Jesus doesn’t care  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Les Miserables  
> Warnings: depressing; mentions of character death; spoilers for the beginning of season 7  
> Pairings: implied Dean/Castiel  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 205  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Supernatural, Dean/Cas, _he put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger // and finally drank away [his] memory // life is short, but this time it was bigger // than the strength he had to get up off his knees_

Everything Dean loves vanishes like smoke, eaten up by the monsters hounding him from that burning November night. 

Everyone Dean loves leaves, willingly or not. A few come back, only to leave again. 

Castiel has died and come back almost as many times as Dean, now. He doesn't think Cas has it in him to do it another time.

Drinking does nothing to dull the pain, or regret, or fury. But it's all Dean can do.

It'll be bitterly ironic if that's the thing to get Dean at last, after all the other damned things he's survived. Or resurrected from. But there are no more angels perched on his shoulder. No more angels at all. 

He'd offer to make a deal, if he thought any demons were dealing. 

He's so tired. The drinking does help him sleep. 

So he drinks. And drinks. Hunts. Drinks some more. 

He finally has Sammy back, and Castiel is gone. He can't ever seem to really have both at the same time. He’d choose Sam, if ever given the choice. Of course he’d choose Sam.

But he didn’t make the choice. And he drinks. And hunts. And wonders which will kill him first, and if it’ll at last be the lasting time.


	44. He Who Is Like God

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: He Who Is Like God  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: AU at the end of season 6  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 190  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Supernatural, Dean/Cas
> 
> _Nobody said it was easy  
>  _It's such a shame for us to part  
>  _Nobody said it was easy  
>  _No one ever said it would be this hard  
>  _Oh take me back to the start_  
>  -"The Scientist", Coldplay____

Castiel holds his head high, wings spread, hearing the voices inside him that make him Like God. His hands cover the world, all the realities, everything that is, was, and will be. 

_Castiel_ is no longer his name, he decides, listening to the heartbeat of his kingdom. Even _Michael_ is unworthy, his brother who Was Like God. Michael is caged, defeated, broken. And he is not _Like_ God, he realizes, smiling. 

He _Is_ God. He has _become_ God, taken the world from Father's hands, and it is His, now. All is His, He Who Has Become God. 

Dean, the newest Beloved of God, stares at Him. Dean’s brother and Dean’s sage, Samuel and Robert, stare at Him, He Who Is God. They are the beginnings of His disciples, if He but finds them worthy.

“You asked me a question, Dean,” He says, “when My brothers fell into the cage. Ask it again.” 

Dean’s eyes widen. His brother and sage look from Him to Dean, and the brother whispers, “Dean, what was the question?”

Taking a deep breath, swallowing heavily, Dean asks hesitantly, “Cas? Are You God?” 

“I Am,” He says.


	45. death, taxes, and pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: death, taxes, and pain  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: AU for “All Hell Breaks Loose” pt2  
> Pairings: none   
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 125  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Sam, Dean, and anyone else, things go a little differently in the cowboy cemetery

Azazel doesn't mess around now; he's tired of Dean Winchester, always there to fuck up plans at the last minute.

No more. 

One thought and Dean's neck snaps, his shiny little self-sacrificing soul flying home to Mommy and the angels. Good riddance. 

And dear sweet Sammy, brimming with potential just stares, hands at his side and mouth open in shock and pain and—

Azazel shudders, feeling the rage rise in Sam. The hordes swarm out of the Gate and Azazel backs away from Dean’s corpse, eyes on Sam. 

He hadn’t expected this, Sam to understand—

“Die,” Sam hisses, fingers clenched into fists. “Die _screaming_.” 

Azazel gasps as he starts to burn, and then he screams. 

The last thing he sees is Samuel Winchester’s eyes turn bone-white.


	46. funeral pyre, run red with blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: funeral pyre, run red with blood   
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: spoilers for season 4; takes place during “In My Time Of Dying”  
> Pairings: John/Mary  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 285  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: author's choice, the color of sacrifice

John tells his boys goodbye, though they don't know it, and strides to meet Mary's murderer again. 

He places the gun on the table, staring into Azazel's stolen eyes, and thinks back to Sam's confused green gaze, how big and strong he's gotten, how so unknowingly powerful. He remembers how frail Dean looked, how he broke in Azazel's grip, how as a boy he did everything John ever asked, but he won't do the one last task John has set him. (John's counting on that. Dean's the wildcard, always has been.)

As John stares at the one thing he's ever truly hated, he thinks back to Mary, her blonde hair gleaming gold in sunlight, her bright and quick smile, her calloused hands and booming laugh. He remembers her eyes as he woke up in the dirt, neck aching, her father bloody and dead at her feet. 

He remembers that stranger who convinced him to buy the impala, and how the man’s gaze could sear through him like Mary’s, the man who’s no longer a stranger, who’s confused and aching in a bed five rooms down.

“I’m honestly surprised, John,” Azazel says, stolen hand tracing the cold metal of Samuel Colt’s greatest creation. 

John pictures Mary in his mind, how she gently kissed their boys before putting them to bed that final night. 

“I’m not,” he says. Sacrifice seems to run in their family, and he hopes their boys know better. 

(He suspects that’s a foolish hope, just like he knows Mary will meet him where he’s going, because there’s only one ending for those who make devil-deals. 

He prays, in that final second, that Dean will never join them there. It’s a futile prayer.)


	47. given eternity, I’d rather Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: given eternity, I’d rather Fall  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: spoilers for season 5  
> Pairings: Michael/Lucifer, implied Dean/Sam  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 225  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: Lucifer/Michael, dreams of burning wings

Once, together, they were the greatest force yet born, woven from God's magnificence, of Him and in Him, better than anything that is, or was, or will ever be. 

Once, together, they soared in eternity, whispering and murmuring mind-to-mind, equals in unending light.

Once, apart, they were broken—one proud and disgraced, the other loyal despite desire. 

Once, apart, they stared across the battlefield, swords in hands and despair in hearts.

Once, apart, separated by hurt and rage, one was cast from Heaven by the might of the other, and he did not fight as hard as he would have, had it been anyone else. 

Once, apart, they wept for each other, separated by time and worlds, pride and pain, by God’s decree.

Once, together, poured into blood-brothers, they stared across the battlefield, one holding a knife and the other a gun. 

Once, together, hearing their vessels’ voices, they lower the weapons and ignore God’s word. 

“Fuck this,” Michael says, striding forward. 

Lucifer smiles, meeting him.

Once, together, wrapped in human-skin and dreaming their vessels’ shared dreams, they watch as angels scream, wings burning in hellfire, and God commands, _Michael, My son, destroy the Adversary!_

Once, together, listening to Lucifer’s heartbeat, Michael remembers soaring across eternity with his one equal, and he replies, _I should have Fallen with him._

They will never part again.


	48. last freak standing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: last freak standing  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: AU  
> Pairings: none stated  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 280  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Sam/Dean, there's another "generation" and Dean is the only survivor of them

When he lets himself go, just immerses himself deep in his mind, he can still feel them all. Spread out over the world, waiting. 

He's the last of his generation, but there are others. Each generation has a winner, the last freak standing, and pretty soon there'll be one last game. The champions going head-to-head.

And the winner of that game… he shudders. That freak’ll get an army to command and a throne to sit on, a scepter to hold and a crown to wear. 

When Sam tells him about his visions, and then that bout of telekinesis, when he sees Max Miller and hears about Rosie, it isn’t surprise that tightens his gut. 

He thinks it might be despair. 

He’s buried it all so far down—Andy gets the drop on him, and then Ansem, and it takes every shred of willpower he has to not rip them apart. 

That’s not who he is. What he is. He’s a hunter. He doesn’t have—he’s not… 

_You’ve been the best so far, Deano_ , Azazel had whispered in his mind while tormenting Sam aloud. _But little brother… how well do you think he’ll do?_

It was locked too far down and he was trying too hard not to die, but Dean looked Azazel straight in his golden eyes and promised, _I’ll kill you._

That was his demon-given gift, after all. Look at a thousand scattered puzzle pieces and see how they all fit together. Glance at every variable and add them all up, every possible way things could go.

He smirked at Azazel while his insides were being shredded because in every outcome, Azazel died.

The only variation was who pulled the trigger.


	49. I could give

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: I could give   
> Fandom: Supernatural  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: spoilers for season 5  
> Pairings: none stated  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 115  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Sam/Lucifer, "What will it take for you to say yes?"

I could give you eternity, he doesn't say. I could give you endless skies, and a clean slate, and Jessica in your arms again for more than a night. I could give you adoration, an army, a galaxy spread wide before you. 

I could give you a life away from lies and false hopes and betrayed trust, he doesn't say. I could give you a throne and a scepter and the Creator's crown, my father the false god. 

I could give you love and trust, anything you want, anything you need, anything you request, he doesn't say. 

He does say, "I can give Dean a new start." 

And Sam says, "My body is yours."


	50. When morning comes, I will finally tell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: When morning comes, I will finally tell  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Carol Ann Duffy  
> Warnings: AU  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 360  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Samuel Campbell & Dean Winchester, Dean follows through on his promise to kill the old man.

Dean is tired of being betrayed. Tired of looking over his shoulder, waiting for the knife. Family is supposed to be there, loyal and helpful, ready to face down the world. Family isn't supposed to be wielding the knife that severs the spine.

And Samuel, Mama's daddy, that competent hunter Dean met once, not too long ago in the distant past—goddamned Grandpa Campbell is working for a demon. 

Using Sam as a weapon at a demon's beck and call.

Dean is so fucking tired of demons. And he may be a year out of the game, but he hunted for twenty-seven years before that, and he spent forty years learning how to make people hurt. Shit, he almost became a demon.

And Grandpa Campbell may've hunted demons, but he sure never learned how to understand them. And whatever he thinks Crowley will give him in the end... well. Samuel's a fool. And he's using Sam in his foolishness.

And this Sam isn't the Sammy that Dean damned himself to Hell for, but Sammy has to be out there somewhere, and someday he'll come home.

And Dean's spent twenty-seven years putting Sammy first. He only spent a year out of the game because Sammy wanted him to.

And Grandpa Campbell, Mama's daddy, he's a threat. Dean knows how to deal with threats.

And, hell, Sam won't even blink this time. He already tried to kill Samuel, but Dean stopped him. And Sam only subsided because Dean told him to.

So, yeah. Sam's out people-watching. Castiel is doing whatever he does. And Samuel is looking at Dean with tired eyes. 

"Just do it," he says, guilt weighing every word. 

And Dean could make it hurt. He wants to make it hurt. He didn't get the chance to torture Azazel or Gordon or Lucifer, and barely got to play with Alistair, and here, he finally has the chance... 

He shoots his grandfather between the eyes, severs his head, and then salts and burns the corpse.

"Dean," Crowley says from behind him, "color me impressed." 

Without even looking at him, Dean walks to his car and drives (home) to his brother.


	51. we discover ourselves inside the kingless kingdom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: we discover ourselves inside the kingless kingdom  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Denise Levertov  
> Warnings: takes place during 5.10  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 245  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: Lucifer/Castiel: I want to be there when your hot black rage rips wide open

Lucifer studies him, this youngest of all his brothers, so sure and calm and still believing in Father while trapped by the Star of Morning.

Lucifer has stood where he stands and felt what he feels, and when he realized the truth, war broke out and angels were cast from the heavens to languish in the Pit. 

Lucifer, though, can learn from his mistakes. Judging by the child before him, Father cannot. Father continues to do the same damn things, over and over, and now he has left. Gone elsewhere, leaving unprepared angels in charge, like that foolish Zachariah. 

And Castiel has so much potential. So much pain, so much rage. Despair, pooling where his grace used to reside. 

And soon enough… yes, Lucifer recognizes this child. He once was this child, except there was no one to guide him, no one who would dare stand beside him. He had followers, and he had enemies. Brothers who turned away, brothers who listened, but no one who was his equal. His only equal cast him low.

This child, Castiel, is not his equal. One day, perhaps, but not yet. 

But when Castiel finally realizes what Lucifer learned so long ago, he will become a force to be reckoned with, stronger than anyone left in Lucifer’s army, and Lucifer must have him on the correct side. 

And so he is gentle with his brother, and plants the seed that will one day flower in his light.


	52. paved with good intentions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: paved with good intentions  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: spoilers for season 4; slightly implied AU  
> Parings: none  
> Wordcount: 90  
> Rating: PG  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Sam, Lawyer

He tells himself it's not that different from what he did in that other life. He's still helping people. Still stopping bad guys. Just—

This time they're human. Less likely to kill him, or curse him, or send him to—

Well. He's still helping people. And Dean's safe. _Dean's safe_ where Lilith and Alistair can't touch him anymore. 

And anyway, isn't this the life he wanted? Back at Stanford, with Jess. He was going to be a lawyer. 

It's not that different. And if Dean remembered, he'd understand. 

Really, he would.


	53. payback

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: payback  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: takes place during 4.16(On the Head of a Pin)  
> Pairings: none stated  
> Rating: R  
> Wordcount: 150  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Dean/Alistair, "Your job is to craft my doom, so I am not sure how well I should wish you. But I'm sure we'll have a lot of fun." (Hannibal)

Dean had a lot of time in Hell, on and off the rack, to think about this moment. To fine-tune it to the smallest detail. 

The one pleasure he had in Hell was imagining Alistair on the rack. Even when Castiel pulled him out, he still dreamed about Alistair screaming.

Part of him knows this is a bad idea. Walking into the room, pushing a cart of toys. Alistair bound and chained. Helpless. 

Part of him knows he can't give in, can't go back. Shouldn't. That he'll change.

Part of him is begging for him to stop. To tell Castiel no. To leave, even if he has to fight an angel to do it.

Part of him, the part that Alistair trained and taught and tortured is whispering, Yes. 

Part of him, that small dark part who picked up the razor and relished the blood, looks Alistair in the eye and smiles.


	54. I know an ending when it comes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: I know an ending when it comes  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: post-season 6; future!fic AU  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 195  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Supernatural, Dean/any, the one thing he thought he’d never get and yet he did

Sam's alive and has a soul. Cas is a juiced-up human who can hear the major news bulletins in Heaven. Bobby's retired to full-time research and training a few new pups on hunting. Lisa's met someone new (someone _safe_ ) and Ben sends Dean emails every week. Crowley's taken the reins of Hell (better the slimy scumbag you know).

There's a road waiting, a brother sitting shotgun, and a one-time guardian angel in the backseat.

Life is too good to be real. Dean pauses next to his baby, one hand on her hood. Sam’s discussing something arcane and potentially dangerous with Cas, and Dean looks out toward the horizon. 

_Your father is a very persuasive man, Dean_ , a voice whispers in his mind. _You and your brother will not be bothered again by the machinations of Heaven or Hell. Castiel will stay with you for as long as you both live._

He knows that voice.

 _Like I said_ , the voice continues, _writing is hard. But I finally know how your story ends._

Dean shakes his head. The open road is calling, Sam and Cas are waiting, and there’s a poltergeist two towns over.

Life is good.


End file.
